


A Game of Madness

by mijikaii



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Kings AU, Multi, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mijikaii/pseuds/mijikaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is made of one, big, subconscious hierarchy, whether we’re aware of it or not. May it be, our elders are more wise, therefore more superior than our youth. Or be it the rich more worth than the beggars. Though, not all our men are lesser than what they seem; and many prosper from said belief. That is how wars are started, and kingdoms run by all that is mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Michael's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thank you for reading!! I'm going to try to update every Friday! Though this week, I'm gonna have a bunch of chapter this week since I have them all backlogged. Feel free to comment your opinions/thoughts, or send me an ask at my tumblr at mijikaii.tumblr.com

Our land has never been much of wealth, or much of a Valhalla that many would adream. Though the kingdom in which I reside is that of beauty. It is said that all man that is born here, is born to prosper. It’s also thought thats how it came to be named ‘Patros’, being that is the latin root of ‘achieve’. 

Patros is a land of wonder, being filled with a wide array of ecosystems. There is desert to the far North East, jungles and forests spread throughout the land, and directly in the center of it all, is the throne.

Our king, (and his prior), sits on the stunning gold throne, said to be around 90 feet of height. Tall, mossy stone walls barricade and hug the throne room like a pelt to a rabbit. The castle is but only a long, vein like vine of corridors and rooms, shielding itself underground, and beneath the throne. Few have been inside. 

Though I, I have no chance of ever knowing.

I am only a butcher. I slay the animals I sell myself, cut, and pickle the meat by my own hand also. I always had the dream of becoming king, wearing the crown, and the long fur capes to adorn my broad shoulders. But I am not fit to be king. ‘Tis true I can fight with no loss, and ‘tis true I am a man of no lies, but I have no blood with the king, therefore no chance of being so. So here I stay, a small stone shop to the west of the kings throne room. 

I am surrounded by other buildings, with few, to only one living in each. A huge building towers across the way from me, the First King Geoff, his lady, and now child live there. Geoff to my knowledge, is a mere drunkard. Though he was the founder of Patros, so I am not to question.

Near to my left, is a small, wooden home that hangs over a mine. The man who lives there lives with only his wife, he is a miner, and carpenter. He is a big man, tall, thick, and a burly beard to match.

To my other side, it a small, stone cottage. There, lives the Second King, Sir Ray. He retired from his reign to know real reason. He is a kind man, standing short, thin as a twig, and glasses similar to mine. He gardens his days, selling roses for a living. He is still young, taking the throne at the age of 19, and ending at the age of 25. Though, even through his kindness, there is always some edge to him. Why? We have yet to learn.

And to my right, lives one of my closest of companions.

He is a short man, 5 feet and 7 inches at most. He’s fair, skin never seeing much sun in the shade of the throne. His skin is the colour of mudded sand, which covers it head, winds down to cup his chin, and lay over his lip. He has a thick accent, from a land most people around have never heard of, (he says it is from up the Northeast, but there are no lands there beyond Patros, he’s also said to be mad). Free is his name, Gavin the first. And even as I speak of him now, the twisted boy is barraching my door.

“Walk in the fucking door, you mad man!” I spit, but all in good humour.

“Hello, my good boy! Are you slapping some meat? Maybe your own!” He bursts into laughter, wrapping his middle in so. His accent makes his words hard to pull apart, though my time speaking to him has given me good practice.

“Trap it, Gavin! You’re a measly musician for the Gods sake, you have no position to be laughing at my work.” His chuckle dies down and his smile begins to fade. A pained expression pales his face, and he nervously chews on his own cheek. This worries me.

“What is it, Gavin? You seem troubled?” I ask, though with the way he seems, I don’t want to know the answer. Gavin is a man of constant laughter and smiles, him being a previous jester as well, so it takes a lot to bring him down.

“I came with news, my dear Michael. I was hoping I could avoid the trouble with smiles, though it seems this may not be the time.” He walked closer towards me, leaning on his elbows, placed on the front counter, I behind it. I gestured for him to continue. He took a breath, and his grimace face worsened. 

“The King is having a game.” He seemed to have choked on his words from the way he spoke. A game? This is nothing of worry.

“And? Rulers can have recreation also? What’s the issue?” I asked, perhards Gavin is mad, and knows nothing of what he’s speaking of.

“The game is for the throne.” He replied. This excited me, though with each word his worry seemed to bloat. I squinted my eyes behind my glasses and cocked my head, still in question. He continued,

“King Ryan is mad. We all know of this. But have you not heard stories? Mad Kings play games for the throne, in awful torturous ways. It is being announced at the square who will be-” he swallowed his fear, and continued, “Who will be playing soon”. 

I now realize his fear, it is so obvious he will choose from the people in my area. A warrior, I. A man of strength, Jack. A fool, Gavin. The first King, a now middle aged man, Geoffrey. And the Second King, a boy with a secret, Ray. These are all the characters from stories we heard as children. And to also, they are choosing in our square, it’s most apparent the Mad King would choose us. 

I stepped from around the counter, and brought Gavin into a tight embrace. I could practically smell the fear resonated from his body. He is petrified. And so am I.


	2. Ray's POV

I have seen the King only once before.  Ryan and I, had shared a secret from long ago, and after he had taken my throne, I had never wanted to see him again. Yet here I am, standing in the center of our square, with the Mad King approaching to his pedestal.  The men and women around me sat in fear. Others that lived farther, though near, were also here.  The men and women I see, I recognize. Michael Jones, the butcher and meat man of our area, is standing near close to me.  Gavin Free, the fool and musician is speaking softly to Michael.  Jack Pattillo, is standing with his arm wrapped tightly around his wife, Caitlin, the fear is showing brightly on her face.  The First King, Sir Geoffrey Ramsey, is in a tight embrace with his wife, Gryffon, and his child, Millicent, only 9 years of age.  Though we know very little of the events the King has called us for, the King never leaves his throne, so this, this is something to great worry.    

 

King Ryan was tall, seeming to scrape the sky at over 6 feet. He was built wide, muscular, with a thick jaw line.  His shoulders were broad, silently boasting about the long, red fur capes that waterfalled off. His skin was very pale, showing the puckered pink scars that slithered from below his chin, across his eye, and finishing above his forehead. The Kings hair was the colour of blood-covered sand, a light brown with the dusting of red.  It flowed from framing his face, to creating a long arch above his hairline, he was graceful, but all until you see his eyes. His eyes were a green only a newborn Douglas could recreate.  They shone a light of pure madness, the folds of his lids creating a sharp, deadly gaze.

He stood on the provided pedestal, an old, somewhat rotted Cherry Oak stand, lifting his robes to prevent them from dirtying.  Once he was standing still, everyone dropped into a bow, even the ladies. He smiled warmly, a father’s smile, though he has no children, and did not dismiss anyone to stand.  The Mad King peered over the audience, and kept the same face.  

Until he met my eyes.

It seemed as though the man had seen a murder when he looked at me.  King Ryan’s features grew sharp, and his smile had dropped, his lips drawing into a thin line, so sharp it resembled a tight-wire.  Though, even though I thought that was the worse it could’ve been, the King remembering his past with me, my heart had stilled.

 

The King no longer was glaring at me, but instead, he smiled a smile only death could make more frightening, and nodded my way.

“Rise.” The King spoke.  His voice sounded like the bark of a Redwood;  smooth, rich, with the never ending hint of malignance.   We stood, warily, and all did their best to create good posture. The people of my area were already wearing their best clothes, as one would decreed seeing their King.

“Presumptuously, most of you are aware of why I have come from my throne. Though, do to those who do not, I will explain,” he smiled warmly again, as though this were a casual conversation.

 

“I have been ruling our beautiful kingdom of Patros for over 7 years as of today.  I am growing old, now 43 years,” he chuckled lightly, and the rest of us did our best to laugh with him, “Though, my wife had passed on before I was given children, and I have yet to remarry; nor do I have any ambition to.” Michael and Gavin looked at me with great dismay, I simply turned my head back to the king. “And now, it is time I crown a new king.  I have no want for some ordinary knighting, as I am not an ordinary man.  I wish to see who prospers through battle, and who shows the most virtue.  I stand here today, and call these names to return to my castle, for a-” his smile grew, and his eyes narrowed, “a game.”

The already tight air around me seemed to contaminate with lead, or metal, growing heavy and thick with the emotions of the others. I knew the King was mad, it’s been apparent since his second year on the throne, and this meant, even if he brought a thousand men, only one was going to return alive. And no death would be easy.  He smiled again, and pulled a slip of paper from his robe,  unfolded it, and cleared his throat.

“Jack Pattillo, miner of Southern Patros.   
Michael Vincent Jones, butcher of Southern Patros.  
Gavin David Free, musician of Southern Patros, and former Jester of the Second King.   
Second King, and florist of Southern Patros, Sir Raymond Narvaez II.

And First King, Father of Patros, Sir Geoffrey Ramsey.”

My throat felt as though the two hands of fate were wrapped tight around it, leaving all the air in his body to the lead of the outside. My stomach felt as though it had sunk down below the earth.  Though, as awful as I felt, the others around me were worse.  

 

Jack’s wife is now sobbing into his shoulder, Jack doing his best to calm her, while attempting to keep composure. The same goes for Geoffrey and his wife, though he must explain to his daughter, why her father may not come home again.

Gavin and Michael shot looks sharper than steel towards the King, who just continued to smile.

**  
And within the hour, we left our square, and journeyed towards the center of Patros.**


End file.
